The Lost Lannister
by thepunctuator97
Summary: What actually happened to Tyrek Lannister after he disappeared during the riots? This is the story of the lord who did not want to be. This is the story of the unsung hero of House Lannister.


The Forgotten Lannister

Tyrek's knees between to ache fiercely as he squeezed back tears. The strip of cloth that gagged him tasted of sweat and dust and was a constant reminder of his situation. Images of the riot flashed through his mind; people being ripped off their horses and crushed beneath the masses; women being raped in the middle of the street. And the noise. The noise was the worst thing. Hundreds of people screaming and shouting in fear and anger and raw hatred whilst horses ran out of control, panic in their eyes. Lannister guardsmen and men of the City Watch desperately trying to keep the crowd at bay, swords slashing wildly through the air, yet the mob pressed on.

Tyrek remembered being pulled off his horse. He remembered screaming in agony as his wrist snapped under his weight. A man reeking off piss, with bits of fish bone and porridge still stuck in his wild, black beard snarled at him, madness in his eyes. He remembered desperately yanking his dagger from its scabbard with his left hand and plunging it deep into the bowels of his assailant. His heart had leapt into his mouth and before he had been able to stop himself, he vomited. When he looked up four more men were standing in front of him and before he could turn and run, one of them smacked him over the head with a rock.

That was the last thing he remembered of the riots. When he had awoken his arm had been wrapped in a makeshift sling. He was wearing nothing but his smallclothes. At this point he hadn't been bound at wrist and ankle and there was no gag. His room was pretty basic, with a pile of straw for sleeping on and a chamber pot. He had started to cry then but stopped himself. He was almost a man grown and a Lannister at that. He was a lion and lions didn't cry.

He began to bang on the door with his good hand. There were no windows along the walls or in the door. He shouted and kicked and screamed, yet no one came. He gave up after a few minutes: Tyrek never had been one for seeing things through. Days passed. Or at least he assumed they were days. Twice a day a woman came with porridge and water when he woke up and some sort of broth and bread before he went to sleep. Every time he tried speaking to her she ignored him, and one time he became so desperate he clutched at her ragged dress and begged her to take him home. She had slapped him right across the face, and then spat at him when he was on the floor. Tyrek had scurried away from the look of venom, which had plastered her otherwise pretty face and from then on had never spoken to her again.

Eventually a man came to see him. He also hadn't said a word and had bound Tyrek with rope at wrist and ankle, before shoving this gag in his mouth. He had been like that for a few hours now. The first time he had heard footsteps outside the door he had wet himself.

Suddenly there was shouting coming from downstairs. A woman screamed and Tyrek heard a pot smash. Heavy boots thudded up the stairs outside his room and carried on past. As they walked, Tyrek strained his ears to work out what they were saying.

"... by order of Tyrion Lannister. He's turning the city upside down looking for this highborn lad. Boy better be worth it, I'm telling you, or I'll ..." They were gold cloaks, he realised with a start. Tyrek breathed a sigh of relief. He was going home and this whole unpleasantness could be forgotten. He couldn't wait to lie in his feather bed again and get back to his books. Although the more Tyrek thought about it, the more he didn't want to go home. What was there back in the Red Keep that he really wanted to go back for. His infant bride to be? The other squires who called him "Wet Nurse"? He had no friends and the only family he had in King's Landing were uncles and cousins who didn't love or even respect him. He had an opportunity for a new start, a clean slate, where he could do whatever he wanted, be whoever he wanted to be. He didn't have to abide by all the stupid rules that applied to highborn young men such as himself. He could be free. His heart leapt at the possibility.

His train of thought was interrupted by the woman he gave him his meals coming through the door. Her eyes were wild and her features were drawn with fear. She yanked him to his feet and dragged him across to the door. Tyrek barely managed to stay upright, let alone walk fast, as the woman pulled him across the room. She leaned out the open door and upon checking that the area was clear, proceeded to yank Tyrek into the hallway. He could hear voices coming from upstairs but was too far away to make out the words. He saw that he was in a dimly lit stairwell with stairs leading both up and down, with a door opposite. It was into this door that he was shoved by the woman.

"Don't make a bloody sound or I'll chop off your little highborn cock and shove it down your throat you hear me!" He nodded. He had absolutely no intention of making a sound. He had a plan. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. He could make out shelves stacked with plates, bowls and pewter cups. There were barrels on the far side of the wall.

"Come over here," said the woman. She began to drag him towards the barrels but stopped halfway across the room. The gold cloaks were coming down the stairs. Tyrek heard them stop outside the door. Just as the door began to creep open he half leapt half fell behind the barrels. The woman went to intercept him but before she could the door was fully open and in the doorway stood two men of the City Watch and a nervous looking man. Tyrek recognised the man as one of the men who grabbed him on the street.

"What's this room used for then?" one of the gold cloaks asked the woman.

"We just use it to store supplies for the inn. Plates and bowls and spare sheets and the like," she replied. She kept her head down and refused to look at the two men.

"What're you doing in here?" asked the other gold cloak. Before she could stammer out a reply the first gold cloak tapped him on the shoulder.

"Why bother asking all these questions? She doesn't know anything, he," he jerked his thumb at the innkeeper standing behind them, "doesn't know anything and the Lannister boy isn't here. Now come on, Chataya's is just around the corner and I don't want this shift to be a total waste of my time." He shouldered past the innkeeper and trotted down the stairs. The second gold cloak looked around as if he wanted to interrogate the woman more, but reluctantly followed his comrade.

When they were gone, the woman slumped against the wall and burst into tears. The man stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"I can't do this anymore," the woman gasped in between sobs, "why can't we just let the boy go. I don't want to be executed for keeping some highborn boy prisoner."

"Speaking of which, where exactly did you put him?" asked the man, who began to turn around to the room that was Tyrek's cell. Tyrek stood up abruptly causing the man to jump. He motioned for the man to un gag him. A look of shock plastered the man's face.

"Why didn't you just ... stand up? You'd be free and ... we'd be dead. Oh my god we'd be dead." He gasped. Tyrek motioned impatiently for him to remove his gag. He humbly obliged before cutting loose his bonds. Tyrek massaged his wrists where the rope had chafed his skin raw.

"I don't want to go home. I don't want to go back to the Red Keep and I don't want to go back to Casterly Rock. There's nothing for me there. I thought that if I stayed quiet maybe you'd let me go and I could be free." The man and the woman both stared at him numbly. Then the man burst out laughing and the woman burst into tears again. For a moment Tyrek had no idea what he had said that upset them so much, but he realised that they were laughing and crying with joy. They hugged each other and kissed before both hugging Tyrek.

"Of course boy of course. We'll let you leave. Can I say just how sorry I am for taking you." There were tears in the man's eyes as he spoke. "It's just I got caught up in the heat of the riot and all I could see was a way of feeding my starving family. We were going to ransom you back to your family but the streets have been crawling with gold cloaks." Tyrek nodded. If anything he was grateful that they had taken him but he didn't think you were supposed to thank your captors so he kept silent.

"No offense boy but you stink. I'll get a bath ready for you and get some of my son's clothes for you. He's about your age so they should fit. Tommy make a meal for him, the boy'll be hungry."

An hour later Tyrek felt a new boy. He was the cleanest he had been in days and he had borrowed some clothes off of Dareon, the eldest son of Tommy and Sheera. They owned an inn in Kings Landing, but had shut it down when the streets were no longer safe to walk along and the amount of food available dried up. They had lots of food stockpiled for the inn anyway, so they had locked the doors and windows and kept their family safe. He shovelled another spoonful of steaming hot broth into his mouth before grabbing a chunk of black bread. Tommy's children were all watching him eat; they had never met a boy of such high birth and had never even dreamed that they would be eating dinner with one.

"Where will you go?" asked Sheera. She was anxiously tugging at her apron as she spoke, obviously eager to be rid of him but not wanting to be rude at the same time.

"I'm not sure. I've not thought about it that much. I was thinking of seeking passage on a ship for the Free Cities and working my way across the Narrow Sea."

"You don't want to be going there boy - all sorts of queer folk in the Free Cities," said Tommy. Him and Sheera were the only ones not eating, as they had decided that the food needed to be rationed.

"Well there's only two places in Westeros that are safe and that's Dorne or the Vale. I don't want to go back West, too many people know me there. The Riverlands have been destroyed by the ongoing fighting and the North isn't going to be safe either, seeing as it's the Starks who are at war with my family. And the Reach and the Stormlands have declared for Renly. I don't really know what to do," he said. All he knew was that he wanted to be in the open air, away from the stench of Kings Landing.

"How bout the Wall lad? Honourable way to spend your life and you get a roof over your head and food for your belly. That's more than can be said for this place at least even if it is damn cold," suggested Tommy.

"Definitely not. Too cold and I want to live life freely, not stuck to a wall with no one but old crusty men for company." _Where can I go? I want somewhere warm, where I can read my books in peace and where the women are beautiful. A place that isn't torn apart by war._

"Well for now you should get out of the city. Maybe your destination will reveal itself in time," said Tommy.

"That does sound like a good idea," he agreed. There was an awkward silence around the table. It was then that Tyrek felt that he had outstayed his welcome, even though it was them who had kidnapped him.

"I shall leave come nightfall. Under the cover of darkness I shall make my way out of the city. It shouldn't be too difficult, there's carts leaving the gates at all times. And if the gates prove too difficult then I can always seek passage on a ship. But for now I shall get some rest." Before any of the others could speak he had begun to walk up the stairs to his cell. He had a few hours to sleep before the sun had well and truly set and he had the feeling that tonight was going to be a long night.

There was a chill in the air that caused Tyrek to shiver despite the layers of clothing he was wearing. The air stank of death and corruption and he had barely crossed the street opposite the inn before sighting the first corpse. It was sprawled in the gutter and was too dark to make out the gender. The only reason he saw it was because of the pair of dogs that were tearing at its flesh. He covered his mouth to stop himself from vomiting and moved swiftly away.

He had never been in this part of the city before, so he decided just to follow the biggest road away from the Red Keep. The castle's ominous silhouette stood out sharply against the moon behind it, making it look like something from one of his wet nurses horror stories about haunted castles and bloodthirsty tyrants. He chastised himself for thinking that; he was a man grown now and he had to grow up if he was going to survive on his own in this world.

The only things he had on him were the clothes he had on his back and a knapsack filled with some food, a map of Westeros, a skin of water. A dagger swung loosely at his belt. It wasn't anywhere near the same quality as his own dagger but it could kill a man as good as any blade. Tyrek just hoped he wouldn't have to use it again. He'd also been given a handful of coppers and a few silvers, not that they were worth much in King's Landing

After a few minutes of walking Tyrek heard loud, angry voices issuing from a parallel street. He crept through an alleyway to see why a group of people had met at this hour. A large group of men, about thirty, were gathered in the middle of the street. Many carried torches and all of them were armed. Tyrek saw scythes, axes, knives and even a few swords. One man in particular seemed to be leading the group. He was the one creating all the noise, shouting at the men and gesticulating at the keep. He was an elderly man with a long grey beard and a long grey robe to match it. In his right hand he carried an oaken staff.

"Why should we starve whilst the fat highborn pigs stuff themselves with their buttered geese and buttered bread and the buttered ... beer! We are the ones who work! We are the ones who toil in the fields, in the inns, in the brothels, whilst they war with one another and slaughter our sons and brothers and fathers! We are gathered here to seek vengeance for our fellow men who died during our protest! Why can they not see that if they feed us we shall not fight? Why -"

He was cut off by the clatter of hooves on stone. _Never a dull moment around here. _Tyrek withdrew even deeper into the shadow of the alleyway as mounted gold cloaks swept into the street. The peasants outnumbered the guardsmen, however the gold cloaks had better weapons, experience and they were mounted. The peasants didn't stand a chance.

"Put down your weapons and surrender by order of King Joffrey!" shouted a man on the back of a horse as black as night.

"To arms men!" The wizened old man cried. He raised his staff at the officer and knocked him clean off his horse. He brought his staff up and began to swing it down onto the face of the gold cloak before another ran him through from atop his horse. Then all hell broke loose.

The peasants ran towards the gold cloaks screaming and yelling, all the anger and fear being unleashed in one brutal torrent. At first it looked like they would survive the ambush. One gold cloak after another was pulled off his horse and stabbed and beaten to death. Tyrek saw a man with a scythe opening the throat of a horse which screamed in horror and fell on its side, crushing the legs of its rider who's head was cut off by some lunatic with a sword. Suddenly the gold cloaks broke and ran away. The crowd of survivors cheered and screamed curses at their retreating backs. Their jeering soon stopped when the gold cloaks wheeled their horses around so that they were facing the crowd.

The horses broke into a trot and then a gallop and soon there was only a wall of gold thundering towards the group of peasants who broke and ran off in different directions. Tyrek squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears with his hands but the screams of the dying men would haunt him forever. He wanted to run out and shout at the men to stop fighting but at the same time he wanted to pick up a sword and destroy the gold cloaks and everything they stood for.

He retreated back down the alleyway and after another hour of wandering the streets came to a gate that he recognised as the Mud Gate. A group of gold cloaks were huddled inside a small hut just beside the gate which open. Two other bored looking guards were checking papers, collecting a toll, and waving carts through into the city. All the traffic was moving into the city and Tyrek saw no one moving in the opposite direction. The smell of sea was stronger here so Tyrek decided to head down to the docks.

Here the streets were more crowded. Whores hung out of windows and the inns and alehouses were packed with people. Tyrek had to force his way through the crowd until he was actually standing on the docks themselves. Every so often a sailor would walk past carrying a crate or a whore would stumble drunkenly past pulling her clothes back on. One offered him her services but he grimaced and shook his head. She spat at him and pulled her fur cloak even tighter across her bare shoulders.

The docks were stuffed with war galleys and pleasure barges but there were very few ships that would give him passage. There was one that needed an oarsmen but that was headed for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea by way of Gulltown and White Harbour, but The Wall was the last place that Tyrek wanted to go.

Just as he was about to give up his search a man approached him. The man was missing a hand and wore a sword at his belt. He had the tight face and salt stained clothing of a sailor and there was a badge on his breast that Tyrek did not recognise.

"Now I don't know you, but I'm willing to bet that you're looking for a way out of Kings Landing. Am I right?" Tyrek studied the man's eyes, looking for any trace of dishonesty. He nodded warily.

"Well boy I might just have a way out for you," the man said with a smile. And that was how Tyrek ended up as a cabin boy on board the flagship of His Grace King Joffrey's Royal Fleet; King Robert's Hammer.


End file.
